


As You Wish Milady

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: F/M, Het, PWP, Public Sex, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:08:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While undercover tracking down lost agents, William Brandt finds himself in a very compromising situation with a sexy female British agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish Milady

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Uuuhshiny who wanted a master/slave hetfic with William Brandt. Of course, this is my spin on things.

“Really, dear, there’s not much of a choice, is there?” She sneered to Fayid as the merchandise was presented; with razor-sharp comments, she destroyed each possibility.  “And I had such high hopes for this year’s festivities. What with the economic downturn, you’d think there’d be more than this willing to enter the market.” With a jaded sigh, she waved a servant over to fill her wine glass.

“Wait … wait.  There is one other option, but I didn’t think you would be interested.  Very expensive. Top quality.” His broken English aside, Fayid made himself perfectly clear. “Too aggressive and dangerous, maybe. But if you want ….”

“What I want is the best. Period. I demand nothing less.” She paused, placed the glass back on the table. “Aggressive I can handle. Second rate merchandise … well, I just may have to take my business elsewhere.”

“No, no. I show you.” He snapped his fingers to one of the hulking men who had been guarding the doors and nodded. She waited, impatiently, arms folded just under her breasts, fingers tapping on her skin, her beige tailored suit hugging generous curves that made Fayid’s mouth water, but, even more than his cock’s needs, his wallet ached to take her money. If he could pawn this one off on her, he’d get rid of the pain in his ass agent without dirtying his hands with murder.

The door opened and two guards dragged the man in; he was dirty, skin marred by bruises, blood caked around a wound in his arm and leg.  His hands were handcuffed behind his back, the ropey muscles of his arms pulled taunt. He shuffled along, kicking the chains around his ankles out of the way as he walked. It was the look on his face that made Fayid uncomfortable; the anger in the blue-green eyes was dagger-sharp and aimed directly at him. He took in the whole room at a glance, calculating exit strategies; there was only a second’s hesitation as his gaze fell on her.

With a fluid movement, she descended the platform stairs, taking a turn around him before she came within arm’s length; all business, she sized him up with quick movements, running hands over his arms and legs, down his muscled chest, pulling open what used to be a white oxford shirt. She checked the wounds and then slipped her hand under his waistband to feel his cock and balls. All the while, she looked bored by the whole proceeding, as if she had something more important to be doing.

“All the usual assurances, health wise?” Fayid started to sweat at her words; he’d not had the man long enough to run any tests, but he had to get rid of him fast.

“Of course. I run a clean business here.”

She tilted her head as she stared at the man; a small smile, one that gave Fayid the shivers, crossed her face. “I suppose he might suffice. At the right price.”  As she started to walk away, the man moved, quick as lightning, pulling one arm free from his guard and swinging his handcuffed hands into the thug’s gut, doubling him over. Kicking one foot out, he entangled the other guard with the excess chain, pulling him off balance.

The click of the hammer drawing back stopped him; her small gun was aimed directly at his head from far enough away that he couldn’t make a play for it. Her stance was confident and Fayid prayed to never find himself staring down the barrel of that gun.

“I believe I need to take control of this slave.”  She kept her steely eyes on him, hand steady and ready. “So, let’s discuss price.”

 

* * *

 

William Brandt glowered at Alex. The mission had gone from bad to worse, and now it was straying into the ‘seriously fucked up’ territory. If Alexandra McCall made an appearance in his life, he knew he was about to end up hurt or screwed. And if his sources were right, screwed might not be a metaphor for what was going to happen this evening. He’d been trying to find another missing agent; the trail had led to Fayid’s little operation and every clue pointed to this group of wealthy women as the culprits.  Whatever game they were playing – and these women had the means to buy just about anything they wanted, even a human life – there was a trail of dead and missing bodies that led to this very spot.

And Alex was here.  Last time he’d seen her, she’d used him as a distraction to escape an irate gun-smuggler in Laos; he’d barely escaped with his limbs intact. It said a lot that the British government didn’t publicly acknowledge her, even if they claimed her successes; if there really were double 0s, she’d have been the first in line for the job. She was ruthless and efficient, and damn sexy to boot; the fact that he’d had a hard-on for her for years certainly didn’t help the situation.

He wanted shut down that smug smile she had on her face, but he had to play his part. Wandering the room with a bottle of wine, he felt completely exposed in the white drawstring pants, the only clothes he was allowed to wear. Even underwear was against the rules. The night had degenerated quickly; drugged male slaves wandered the room, being used by the women who had paid for them. Dosed with Viagra and a date rape drug, the men were up for the tasks their ‘masters’ set for them. Alex had managed to keep him from taking the sex cocktail, and he’d somehow escaped the clutches of the women to this point, picking up a lot of good information. But his luck was bound to run out, and turning someone one down would blow what little cover he had.

 “Come,” she purred. “I am bored. Pleasure me.” He turned to find Alex, reclined on a couch in a private corner of the room,  wearing a little black dress that slipped up to indecent heights, offering a glimpse of red lace underwear and dark curls between her legs. She waved an empty wine glass at him. “I bought you, so you’re mine.”

He knelt beside her and filled the glass. “What are you doing?” he whispered. She sat up and took a long drink before she answered him.

“Emily has her eye on you, love,” she said; she laid her hands on his shoulders and drew him in. “She’s the main player, but there are many of them who want a change of leadership. If I take you from her, I’m setting myself up as a challenger. Of course, if you prefer a twisted psychopath …”

“Yes, M’lady,” he said, loud enough to be heard. “Whatever you wish.”  He closed the distance between them as if he meant to kiss her, setting down the bottle on the floor, but then he pushed her back against the couch and drew her legs apart, caressing her inner thigh as he dipped his hands under the hem of the dress, catching the edge of her underwear with his fingers. Lifting the lace, he slid them down her legs and over her spike heels.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Bring that smart mouth over here.” She let her legs fall open, and Brandt’s mouth went dry at the sight of her, glistening wet and ready. “God, yes. Been thinking about this.”

He brought his mouth down and kissed the junction of each thigh; pulling her lips apart, he licked the rosy nub and she gasped. He sucked the sensitive spot into his mouth and she cried out, her startled moan lost in the sounds of pleasure around the room.  He chuckled and rubbed his day old stubble against her inner thigh. Drawing a line down from her clit until his tongue dipped into her wet hole, he tasted her as he delved inside.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, writhing to meet his mouth with each circle of his tongue.  He could feel the little tremors of her muscles and inserted a finger into the wet heat, pushing her further towards her climax.  “More,” she breathed. “More.”

“Yes, M’lady.” He added a second finger and started a hard rhythm as she clenched around him.  Moving upward, he watched her face, mouth open as small sounds tumbled out with each searching push of his fingers. “More?”

“Yes, damn you.” He laughed at that, but the third finger finally sent her into an orgasm that shook her body.  Even as the spasms rolled through her, he slid the dress strap off of her shoulder and cupped her breast with his other hand, rubbing the nipple until it was hard as a pebble. “Fuck you,” she cursed, groaning and arching her back. 

“I live to serve,” he said when he lips were just brushing the tight bud, darting his tongue out to tease it as his hand rolled the other one and pinched.  He laughed and the vibration rolled through her, jolting the warmth between her legs with need. “But I’d rather fuck you, if you don’t mind, M ’lady.”

“I want to taste you first. Off with those pants,” she pushed him back and sat up. “Kneel, slave.” He gave her a sharp look, but did as she asked, sitting on his heels on the couch, letting his eyes rove over her. He’d placed himself with his back to the room, offering them some privacy. She surprised him by laying her back and sliding between his legs. The picture she made almost drove him to his own climax; her dress was pushed up to her waist, legs parted to show the wet hair there, and her top askew, breasts revealed, nipples still puckered and hard. Her hands gripped his ass and squeezed; with a knowing smile she lifted him up, angled her head back, and took him fully in her mouth until he could feel the back of her throat. The groan tore out him as she sucked hard, paying him back in turn for his mouth’s work. He bent forward and squeezed her breasts in time with each pull of her mouth; he could feel her little mewls of desire around his cock, an erotic charge that ran up his spine.

“Stop that,” she said, and he sagged as her mouth left him hanging, engorged and aching with need. “I am the master here.” She sat up and turned to him. “There’s no coming until I say so.” With one smooth move and a laugh, he pushed her backwards onto the couch and thrust into her, sheathing himself with a long moan of pleasure.

“Say when,” he whispered into her ear, and he pulled back and plunged in again. This time she did scream, but he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. 

“When you beg me,” she gasped out. “Only then.” The rhythm of the thrusts took him; he held on for as long as he could, waiting until he could feel her start to clench around him. She began to whisper encouragement, small ‘oh’s and ‘yes’s until he knew her second orgasm was about to hit. Just as she trembled and threw her head back, he whispered, “please” into her ear, and then he came, plunging one final time as deep into her as he could, straining up and in, filling her.

He collapsed on top of her as the sounds filtered back into his senses; moans of pleasure, the body bumping against body, quiet conversation, and music that played beneath all of it. 

“Darling, that was quite exciting!” The woman’s voice carried from her seat. “You will have to lend him to me later, after he’s had time to recuperate.  Excellent purchase, I must say.”

Alex pushed up on her elbows.  “Sorry Emily, but I think I’m going to keep him.  I’m not big on sharing, love.” The coldness in her voice belied her casual words. She tangled her hand in his hair and pulled his lips back to hers, whispering to him, “Besides, I don’t think you’ve quite figured out the whole slave/master dynamic.”

“Oh, I understand it. I just prefer you right where you are,” he answered back as he stroked her thigh, “with me inside you.”


End file.
